


Come Into My Parlor

by TheOvenGlove



Category: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Blindfolds, Bondage, But you're reading it, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Exploitation of A Minor, F/M, Handcuffs, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Peter Parker Whump, Peter gets a Very Different mentor instead, Poor Peter, Pre-Spider-Man: Homecoming AU, Rape/Non-con Elements, She's literally grooming Peter to be her personal plaything, So I'll see you there Losers, Statutory Rape, This story gets super dark super fast, Tony never recruits Peter for the Avengers, Underage - Freeform, i might be going to hell for this, like they never even meet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-06 19:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17945330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOvenGlove/pseuds/TheOvenGlove
Summary: Spider-man learns that sometimes, secret identities are impossible to keep secret, no matter how hard you try. And Peter Parker learns that you can't always trust the people you should be able to. But... speaking as both his English teacherandhis future Dom, wasn't it your job to teach him those lessons? It's time you put everyone's favorite web slinger on a leash. For his own good, and for yours.





	1. Sometimes Betrayal Is Subtle

**Author's Note:**

> I'm gonna say this upfront in case ya'll didn't read the tags: This story is DARK. Containing mental and emotional abuse and manipulation of Peter Parker, who is between the ages of 14-17 when this story takes place (there will be some jumping back into Peter's memories but it's mostly present day). There will be Non-consensual sex between the Reader and Peter Parker. If any of that triggers you, then you need to turn away now. Because while there will be a few bright spots of humor and action, there is no way that the relationship is in any way healthy, and it _will_ have a lasting effect on Peter's mind. Seriously, I kinda feel bad about what I'm doing to the poor kid here...

The only reason no-one had figured out Spider-man's identity had to have been because everyone in New York was a complete _fucking_ moron, you thought to yourself.

Of course, you were certain that being both a master thief and Peter Parker's English teacher might have helped narrow down the process of elimination just a little bit.

"The Shadow" was the name that the Daily Bugle had given your alter-ego, and you were more than satisfied with that. Your expert ability to hide in plain sight consistently made it look like you had disappeared without a trace from your crime scenes. You had met Spider-man on several occasions during your night time work. His voice and size had been enough to tell you that he was just a teenager. You taught the little bastards all day, every day: you knew what a child trying to act grown sounded like. The clue that had tipped you off though, had actually been an accident. The diamond laser cutter you used during break-ins had had to be used as a last second weapon when the boy got too close to catching you, and you had lashed out blindly, cutting a thin, shallow line across his left cheek. The next day, Peter Parker had strolled into your last period English class with the same scar, in the same place. It had taken an act worthy of an Oscar to refrain from freaking the fuck out. Instead you had managed to sound concerned and sincere when you tilted his head up with one finger under his chin and asked what happened, and if he was okay. The poor child had looked like a deer in headlights as he blushed and stuttered his way through an unnecessarily long and detailed lie about fixing the motor on Aunt May's vacuum cleaner and accidentally hitting himself in the face with the screwdriver. You had just tutted in false sympathy and muttered something about being being more careful before moving on to finish passing out the days worksheet. 

_Well_. At least now you had an honest reason for Peter's grades dropping right around the time Spider-man started showing up.

That night had been... not one of your best moments, even you had to admit.

Because while the Spider-man had never actually been able to catch you, he had come close on several occasions. The two of you even going so far as to get in some witty banter before and during your various altercations. You were in your thirties, and he was a fucking teenager. Well that had explained a few things. Like the fact that; weather you were being chased across the rooftops of Manhattan or standing stock still in front of thirty-five of his peers, both Peter Parker and Spider-man couldn't stop staring at your tits. Teenage boys were nothing if not predictable. Your day-work clothes were all perfectly appropriate for a high school teacher. Different color button up shirts, with matching pencil skirts and blazers. You did perhaps indulge a bit in your day-work wardrobe with some very sexy high-heels, but that was beside the point. Your night-work costume, on the other hand, was absolutely _not_ appropriate for anything other than thieving, or perhaps a really kinky dominatrix. A skin tight black body suit had been designed to fit you so perfectly, that despite being able to clearly see the outline of your nipples and pubic mound, was both light and had a durable armor sewn in. Your boots had sound absorbing materials in them that made you nearly silent, and your gloves were equipped with several different deploy-able gadgets that could be used while working a job. Your mask wasn't too complicated, a simple black domino mask with mirrored lenses that had a very sophisticated H.U.D. that allowed for both night and thermal vision, among other nifty settings. 

You had been half-way through a bottle of vodka around midnight, before your drunken mind had finally come to the conclusion that you should use this newfound information of Spider-mans identity to help with your night work.

After sleeping off most of your hangover (thank Jesus it was a Saturday), you hastily shuffled through a stack of essays that you had just finished grading the day before, looking for Parker's name. You finally found it, and underneath the abysmally low score of sixty-five percent, you used your red pen to tack on a note of "Please see me after class". The rest of the weekend was spent planning out exactly how to blackmail a child less than half your age. But that seemed to be the best way of looking at things, you later decided. Teenagers on the whole were easily embarrassed, and the male ego was fragile and easy to destroy at any age, so those were the aspects you focused on. 

The following Monday had seemed to take forever to arrive, and the school day it’s self had seemed to drag on even longer than usual. You passed back the papers that you had corrected on Friday and kept an eye on Peter whenever you could. The kid was socially awkward at the best of times, but now he was so nervous he kept bouncing his knee to the point that you had to tell him to cut it out so that the other students could finish their work. You checked your watch (because the idea of a New York City public high school having a working clock was just as absurd as saying that Captain America was secretly Hydra all along), and when you noticed that you had about ten minutes left in class, you asked everyone to hand in their papers. You collected the papers from the front row before crossing back over the room so you could lean back on your desk as you spoke over the general shuffle of students getting ready to leave for the day. 

You snapped your fingers to get everyone’s attention, “Alright, listen up, you nerds.” There were a few snickers from around the room, and it made you smile; hey, at least someone appreciated your humor. But the smile dropped as you crossed your arms over your very ample chest, looking every inch like an angry librarian. “I’m not gonna mince words here. You guys bombed pretty hard on that last test.” There was a round of groaning from the children and one hollow Thunk! as Flash dropped his head on his desk. “Calm down, kiddies, calm down. None of you have to worry too hard. I’m gonna give you guys an option.” Nothing but silence and riveted attention now, “If you think you did the best you can do, hand me back the graded papers, and I’ll put your grade into the computer. But, if you want to try again you can. I’m giving you guys an optional assignment. You can, on your own time, write me a three page essay,” More groaning. “ _Stop it_. Three pages- front and back, single space, twelve point font-“ Louder groans. “Hey, you guys wanna keep pissing and moaning about it, that’s fine. But I will keep the entire class late if the bell rings before I’m finished here.” You held out both hands and raised your eyebrows in a ‘what are you going to do?’ gesture, as your eyes swept over the classroom. Peter looked like he might be physically sick from nerves any moment, so you decided to have mercy on him and wrap things up.

“The topic can be anything you guys want. History, ethics, current events. Hell, you can write about who your favorite Avenger is and why for all I care. I’m not looking for literary artwork. Just put enough effort into that I don’t fall asleep while grading them, okay? I’m gonna grade this one a lot easier than the last one. But if you do decide to do it, know that it will replace this test score. And since I want you guys to rest those big brains of yours for a while, and I’m long over-due for a vacation” You paused for dramatic effect, and watched eyebrows raise all over the room, “It will be due in three weeks, just before the quarter ends.” You watched some of your lazier students fist bump over that, and couldn’t help but smile as you finished your announcements, “And one more thing!”, you raised your voice enough to make the kids jump, “I said I wanted you guys to take this time to relax, and I mean that, so until the end of the quarter… no other homework.” The resulting explosion of teenage excitement was loud enough that a passing vice principal peeked through the back door of the classroom to make sure a fight hadn’t broken out. You just waved him off as the final bell rang, and the kids started tripping over themselves to pack up and leave. Minus Peter.

Mr. Parker hung back and said good-bye to Ned for the day as he slowly packed his bags. He even waited until the final student had cleared the room before leaving his desk to slowly approach your own. Poor kid looked like it was a death march. You took a bit more pity on him and gave your best comforting smile while you stood and pulled another chair over so that he could sit next to you at your desk. When he finally reached your side, his eyes flicked between you and the chair as if asking permission to sit, despite the fact that you had put it there just for him. You just huffed out an amused snort and gestured to the seat, which he finally slid into after taking a deep breath, looking like he had had to gather the courage to do so.  
You shuffled the papers on your desk, already knowing that Peter was not one of the few that had handed their work back in. “Well,” the poor kid jumped despite the fact that you’d tried to keep your voice low and soft, “Peter… calm down, you’re okay. Just look at me.”

The teen finally looked up from his tightly pressed together knees that he’d hunched over, with his hands tucked under his legs. Despite the eye contact, he didn’t change his posture, and you got the sense that it had nothing to do with the fact that he was nervous.

You tried not to smirk as you thwarted that attempt to hide from you by simply putting two fingers under his chin and pushing up, forcing him to either sit up straight or pull a muscle. Your gave him a quick once-over as you made a comment about how children needed to sit up straight more often, and- yeah; poor kid had an inconvenient boner. You pretended not to notice, and instead started talking about his grades and quality of work he was handing in. Eventually you more or less press-ganged poor Parker into helping you after class for a few hours twice a week as a TA, when you threatened to send a note home for Aunt May to sign regarding his lacking grades.

"So your not gonna...like...I don't know... give me detention or anything? And all I have to do is stay after school a few hours a week?" Peter asked, looking like he couldn't believe his luck.

"Don't get it twisted, kid." You responded, not bothering to look at him as you spun your chair to face your file cabinet on your other side. You opened the bottom drawer to retrieve a manila folder full of some of the lesser used documents, and when you finally found what you were looking for you spun back to face Peter again, your school supplied chair squeaking loudly as you did. You pulled one of the forms from the folder, scanned it quickly to make sure it was the right one, and handed it over to the young brunet. "I'm not just gonna hand you an 'A' in this class. If you want this TA thing to carry over to some extra credit on your grades, I'm going to need to see more effort going into your class time too, okay? I know it's been tough since your Uncle Ben passed, and I'm not going to just tell you to get over that. But at the same time, you have to start moving forward with your life. Make him even more proud than you already have."

Peter just ducked his head and mumbled something unintelligible, but you caught the words 'Sorry' and 'Try harder' as he stared resolutely at the light blue parent/guardian permission slip.

You sighed softly. Parker really had some self esteem issues that needed work. He had terrible problems with eye contact when he wasn't in his costume (or maybe he did, you couldn't tell with that damn mask on). So you reached out for the third time and gently cuffed the underside of his chin with one finger, making him jump slightly as his head quickly turned back to look at you. "Alright. I've given you your ultimatum. Now go catch your bus." You said with what you hoped was a comforting smile.

His eyes went wide for a split second, before he jumped up so fast he knocked his chair over as he shot up, shouting out a "Thank you! See you tomorrow!" over his shoulder as he practically sprinted out of your classroom and down the hall. 

You smiled knowingly and shook your head as that same pair of sneakers came thudding back in your direction. Parker darted back through your still open door, snatched up the chair he had knocked over in his haste to leave, and put it back in it's proper place behind the desk. You just raised one eyebrow in question as he backed out of the room, this time blushing a lovely tomato red and rubbing the back of his neck as he stuttered out "Sorry. That would have bothered me all night." 

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, " _Go_ , Parker."

He spun on his heel, like he'd been waiting for your permission to do just that, and ran back down the hall. You heard one of the other staff yell at him for running, and you let out a short giggle, unable to help it. Peter Parker was a cinnamon roll that needed protecting at all costs.

+++++++++++++++++  
It had taken almost the full three weeks to set up what you thought would be the perfect heist to catch a spider with. Now that you had trapped him under your thumb as Peter, you just had to do the same with him as Spider-man. And really, if it hadn't been for the fact that you had banned homework for all your classes, and had Parker, as your own personal slave-ahem-... TA... to grade the minimal classwork you had been assigning, you never would have been able to do it so fast. A quick peek at the 'Parker, Peter' folder in the main office gave you the boys home address, and a few practice runs in your own car gave you his bus route home. A very boring, and lonely two weeks passed by faster than you would have thought; staking out on a rooftop two blocks over from Parker's apartment. Your military binoculars trained on the boys bedroom window, as it was the most likely route for a late night Spider-man sneak out. You learned that the poor child had to sneak out Spider-man style six nights a week, and stayed out until dawn unless it was a slow night. You had felt a burst of sadness for the poor boy. What had happened with his parents, and then his uncle. And after all that becoming a part time super-hero/part time student/full time teenager... must have been exhausting. Everything that you could remember about being a teenager was unpleasant at the best of times, and you'd had a pretty cushy middle-class upbringing. 

A short consultation with a teacher in the math department reminded the poor man that he owed you a debt (you had bailed him out of a rather nasty gambling situation, with some very nasty people in the black market) and suddenly he was happy to create an algorithm that could calculate Spidey's rough location at any given moment given the time/date and approximate number of crimes being broadcast on the police radio- within a certain margin of error, of course. Everything you knew about Spider-man and Peter Parker had combined with your casing skills had given you a perfect jewelry store heist about three blocks from Parkers apartment. At 8:15 that evening you would be clearing out a safe that was, honestly, well below your pay-grade. Spider-man should have been within a 3-block radius not long after, and thanks to the fact that you had been tampering with the stores alarm system all week, the cops would see the break in as another false alarm, and be much slower to respond. Normally you would have just disabled the system, but in this case, it had to go off to attract Spider-man. You didn't know it at the time, but the last night of screwing with the alarms, Spider-man had shown up just in time to see you take a running dive off the roof of the five-story building. In the half second it had taken him to make it to where he could have saved you from going SPLAT! all over the pavement, you'd vanished. No stain on the side walk, no nothing. There and gone, like a _...Shadow_. He had staked out the jewelry store for weeks hoping to catch you, but you never returned, so now he just managed to swing by the store on his way out and back each night, just to check on things.

And just under three weeks later you'd finally moved everything into place. It had taken too long to set up a spider trap that would be undetectable by his Spidey Sense, and also not kill the poor kid. Not to mention the other supplies. The items that would allow you to _finally_ put the worry of getting caught out of your mind by getting Spidey off your case.

That's why you had ended up where you are now. Vaulting from one roof to another so Spidey could more easily track you, instead of hitting the sidewalk and blending in to the pedestrian crowd, just making sure to stay one step ahead of the kid and his web-shooters. You'd had to double back twice and take the long way to where you'd carefully set your trap in the middle of an abandoned warehouse district, but you'd finally managed to make it.

You intentionally stumbled as you hit the rough tarmac of the old rooftop, clutching your side and feigning breathlessness as you leaned on a partially crumbled stack of bricks that used to be a chimney. You dropped your mostly empty duffel bag of stolen loot at your feet and held your pointer finger up and behind you, in his general direction, silently asking for a moment 'to catch your breath'. And Spider-man, ever the good sport, had just shrugged as he jogged to a slow walk mere feet away, "You know," he began condescendingly as he strolled casually over and sat next to you on the brick pile, " If you’re gonna get into a profession where you gotta run from the law, you should probably do more cardio." His advice was sound, but even he was breathing harder than normal. "I gotta say though; this was our longest fight yet, by far. But maybe fight is stretching it a bit? That was more of a run? Chase? Yeah, chase works...And, _hey!_ I _finally caught you!_ " He sounded so proud of himself. Poor bastard.

"Yeah, yeah, kid." You said with a sigh of false resignation, "Ya did. Now help me up, I think I turned my ankle on that landing."

You hissed in pretend pain as you sat forward, and because the kid was the most cliched version of a modern Prince Charming, Spider-man jumped up with a soft, " _Oh!_ oh, you-right, I'm sorry. Here, lemme just-" and helped you to your feet, throwing your arm over his shoulders to take the pressure off as you walked. As he wrapped his right arm behind your back, a quick flick of his wrist webbed up your stolen duffel and yanked it up into the air and over your heads so that he could catch it with his free left hand. You didn't realize how tiny the kid was in comparison to you until you noticed that he didn't even have to stoop to help you walk, the top of his head leveled off with the bottom of your jaw and his shoulders fit perfectly beneath your arm. Which made things even easier for you.

Quite honestly, you had been absolutely stumped on how to trap Spider-man initially. Anything that would pop, snap, or slam shut around him was effectively useless to contain the boy because it would be thwarted by that God Damned Spidey sense. And if this didn't work, you would never get another chance, so everything had to be perfect. You may not have been able to out-think the likes of Tony Stark or Dr. Reed Richards, but as it turned out, you didn't need to. With a little thinking outside the box, a little hope, and a lot of favors called in, you had come to what you believed to be the only possible solution. If humans and machinery both were to inferior to stop Spider-man, then perhaps moving fast was not the right way to go. 

So, you went slow.

Back in the days when you had just earned your teaching certificate (and were also fairly new to the thief business) you had made several contacts in the black market. Mostly fencers, forgers, and money launderers. But everyone in the business 'knows a guy, who knows a guy' and after some heavy negotiations and a few greased palms, you had managed to get your hands on a small vile of clear liquid roughly the size of your pinky finger. It was odorless, colorless, tasteless, and according to a reputable source, had actually been originally engineered by S.H.I.E.L.D. to sedate Captain America in the event of any necessary surgery. All you needed to do was dip the tip of a sewing needle into the drug and _carefully_ attach the needle to the fingertip of your left glove. You figured, if nothing else you could just try for a wild slap, but fate and Spider-man had helped you avoid that situation. Now, you slowly lifted the ring finger on you left hand, curling it slightly so that instead of the pads of your digits pressing against his costume, the sewing needle sunk right through the outer layer of his uniform and into the skin beneath. You looked down to see if there was any indication of him feeling what had happened, but the mask left you lost. Your only clue being that he still hadn't stopped chattering happily at you since he helped you up. "You were doing really good there for a while, you know?" He commented, "I almost lost you for a few seconds around Bleaker street. Hey, what's your name? I mean, other than ‘The Shadow’. You’re almost as good with the fighting stuff as you are with the disappearing. How do you do that, by the way?” The boy glanced up at you for a moment, the lenses on his mask were wide with honest curiosity. 

“If I told you that,“ you looked down at him and the lenses of your domino mask narrowed in amusement, “then I’d have to destroy you.” You smiled, and behind his mask, so did the young man.

“That would be very ambitious of you.” He chuckled.

“You don’t have to use traditional weapons to hurt someone, Peter.” You felt his shoulders tense immediately at your casual use of his given name for the first time.

“What-uh, w-what did you just call…? M-my name is Spider-man, Shadow. You know… What did you…?” The child quickly tried to twist out from under your arm to get away from your grasp, but he had taken only a few steps when he started to wobble mid-stride, the super-solider sedative working just like you had hoped it would. Now you were the one supporting him. "What's-...wuzz goin...", if it hadn't been for the fact that he was already under your arm, the poor kid would have hit the tarmac face first. Instead you quickly shifted your weight to catch him as his legs finally gave out. "nngh...oh, God." He groaned as the drugs worked their way through his system, and was having enough trouble controlling his limbs that it was easier to move him by shifting around until you could pick him up bridal style. 

Jesus H. Christ. This kid needed a hamburger- stat. He had to weigh 150 pounds at most. He must have been into the something similar to your own parkour style work out. Keeping fit enough to run from your pursuers (whomever they might be) while still slim enough (despite the fact that you often taped down your ample bosom) to slip through most any potential source of entrance or egress. You just sighed and walked, with Spider-man cradled in gently in your arms, the last few feet around the roof access door to what you had begun mentally referring to as your 'work space'.

"I'm sorry we have to do things this way, kid." You said as you gently propped him up on a stack of plastic crates you had piled against the wall for that specific purpose. After making sure he wouldn't fall off, you moved over to the torn and paint stained old tarp you had covered your ‘tools’ with. Flinging it backward, your eyes danced over everything you'd brought with you for this mission.  
The light fixture that was attached to the wall you'd propped Spider-man against gave off just enough light for what would come next, and you quickly snatched up the pair of standard issue police handcuffs, snapping them around Spider-man's wrists as they were crossed in front of him. The drugs in his system keeping him just as immobile as any normal human. You brought your hands up to frame his face for a moment, the opaque lenses on his mask making impossible to tell if he could focus enough to understand you. “A lesson learned the hard way, is a lesson learned for life. This is going to hurt you, and I want you to know that there is no way around it. I know you were raised to be a good kid, but I’m not doing this with any intention to harm you. All you have to do is help me out, okay?”

He was definitely awake; every few seconds he’d try to speak or move, but the drug had been administered in just the right dosage that he could barely move his tongue enough to get out a coherent sentence, let alone get his legs under himself. It took almost a full minute before he was able to get out the most coherent response he could so far, “What’r ya’ doin’… t’me? ‘S goin’ on?” He was no stronger than an infant at the moment, so the hand cuffs were completely unnecessary for keeping him immobile, but they were perfect for keeping him in the proper position for what you needed. You had several options to choose from, but for now, decided to tie the poor child into the prone position. You had prepared this particular rooftop for every eventuality, and there were several anchor points in both the wall Spidey was reclined against and the flat part of the roof itself, that the cuffs were designed to fit in.

Another reach towards your workbench, and you picked up another two pairs of hand cuffs, and attached one end of each to the web crawler’s ankles. The poor kid was barely able to put up a fight as you held tight, with one hand wrapped around his lower calf, thumb and pointer finger easily meeting around his achilles tendons and held him still with minimal effort as you clipped them closed, the open halves of each of the restraints clinking quietly against the ground as he realized that he was being moved again. Not far. Just a few feet away to a tattered old mattress, and what he realized with growing horror was large hooks screwed into the rooftop that the chain links of his restraints would easily fit into. 

His drugged brain made the connection with exactly what was going to happen far too late and he discovered that he was still too weak to ever escape this hell. 

Peter Parker didn’t know how to deal with this situation, he could feel the panicked tears to start to run down his cheeks and soak through the mask. He didn’t want this. _‘No’_ was all he could think, _‘I’m Spider-Man, this can’t happen!’_ After that it was all just a litany of _‘Nono-pleaseGod-No-‘_ as his head was cradled gently against the warm shoulder of the woman he’d been touching himself to since he’d first laid eyes on her crawling backwards out of an air duct over a year ago.  
++++++++  
He’d been fourteen and he had absolutely no idea on how to sew a single stitch. Just trying to make sure he didn't go out fighting criminals looking like a complete moron in his current home-made wreck of an outfit was hard enough. But he'd managed to cobble together a costume that was somewhere in the realm of Not-Completely-Shit, while not exceeding the self imposed thrift store budget of $30.  
He was still webbing about the city at random, not yet having gotten a feel for the crime patterns.There hadn’t been any immediate danger, so he’d been catching a 5 minute break on a building ledge when there was a small commotion across the street, and one of the vent covers on top of the building swung open. He had webbed over just in time to see an incredibly shapely pair of legs begin to slide out of the vent work feet first. They had been followed by shapely calves , and a thick pair of thighs that were parted just far enough for him to make out her puffy pubic mound. Following them up further, there was a thick, bubble ass, that just begged to be slapped. It jiggled perfectly as the woman’s full weight finally slipped free of the vent and her feet hit the shingles of the roof. His eyes followed the curve of her back upwards as she turned to face him, and he was rewarded with the sight of largest, most beautiful, pair of breasts he had ever seen outside of porn. There had been an instant boner problem, and it had made for one of the most uncomfortable, humiliating fights of his Spider-man career. Her fighting style had almost mirrored his own and not only had she rubbed up against his hard on several times, but there had even been an instant when he had tried to pin her down and had grabbed a handful of her left breast instead. He hesitated, she struck… she got away.  
+++++++++  
His mind drifted back to the present as he felt himself being laid down gently in the center of the mattress. She moved his legs until they were spread wide enough for her to clip the trailing ends of his restraints onto the steel grommets that had been anchored to the rooftop. To lift his still cuffed hands, all she had to do was hook one finger under the hinged center of the cuffs and tug upwards, where she then hooked them into another anchored steel grommet. His restraints pulled uncomfortably at his joints, but at the moment there was no pain, and for that he was grateful for the small concession from his horrible luck. Any warm and fuzzy feelings went right out the window, however, as The Shadow's masked face hovered over his own for a moment before she looked down, and he could feel her gloved hands prying at the seam where his shirt tucked into his pants. He tried to struggle, but whatever he'd been dosed with -and he was sure it was something, he just didn't know what or how- still had him far from in control of his body. Even his mind felt slightly out of sorts, almost like the time he'd shared his first beer with Ned, and his 12 year old self had managed to get buzzed off of half a bottle. There was even a slight euphoric feeling wriggling at the back of his mind that was urging him to -just relax and enjoy the sensations he was experiencing, because how could anything hurt him when the world felt this wonderful? The longer he was under the influence the farther away his panic seemed to drift. He managed to huff out a sob of very brief relief as he realized she had only un-tucked his shirt. He still knew this was wrong, still knew he didn't want it, even knew he should probably still be crying, he just wasn't sure why anymore?

Someone moaned; he could have sworn that he could hear Shadow laugh as her footsteps carried her away from him, and he realized the noise had been him. Peter turned his head to follow her movements sluggishly, and by the time his eyes could track her again, she was already returning to him, a brand new camera phone in one hand and a small tripod in the other. She carefully set the tripod up, before settling the camera on its mounting bracket at the top, and adjusting everything just so, so she could get an excellent video of what was about to happen. Peter managed to roll his head back towards the sky and squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to block this out; his about-to-be rapist was also going to film his humiliation. His breathing picked up even though his panic didn't, and he wondered at that for only a brief moment before he tried to speak again, "Nnnn-no, please. Don't." His voice was barely more than a whisper, and he had to pause for a moment to gather his mind to coherency before he could continue his plea, but it didn't matter. Before he could open his mouth again, a gentle hand clamped down over it, and with his diminished strength, he couldn't find it within him to resist any further. He allowed himself to go limp, his jaw going slack beneath his mask.

If Shadow was going to record his rape, for God only knew what reason, at least she had left his mask on.

If she was going to tear down the identity of Spider-man, at least he still had his identity as Peter Parker to hide behind.


	2. Sometimes It's Not

You sighed as you saw the sweet young man go limp under you, and Parker's own warm exhale ghosted across the back of your hand. You wished you could see his face, or at the very least his eyes; use the unveiling of his identity to blackmail him into being complicit in his own rape. A concept that left a truly awful taste in your mouth, but as with the rest of the plan, a necessity to keep the Spider-man (and by extension, the law) off your case and out of your life. And despite the ugliness of it all, you felt rather serene about the entire situation. You knew what had to be done to keep yourself safe, and were taking what would rather astutely observed as a perverse pleasure in making sure that it was done well. 

It was a simple thing to pull off the mask and turn Spider-man back into Peter Parker. The poor child looked even more pitiable than usual, and when he felt the drag of cloth over his face he began to thrash as much as possible; which was to say that he jerked his head slowly from side to side, and rattled his wrist and ankle cuffs slightly. "No." His sudden burst of panic forced the word out faster and more coherently than any so far, before he began slurring again, "Nnnno. Stop. Plsssss sss-st-stop." He sobbed once, before the drugs overran his mind, and the fuzzy feeling clouded his thoughts until he, again, couldn't remember why he was ever scared in the first place.

You tossed the mask and attached goggles in the general direction of your work table and moved your hand to lay softly over his forehead, using your fingernails to gently comb over his scalp. You pitched your voice like you were speaking to an easily startled animal, as you finally looked into his eyes, "Pete, I need you to calm down." You soothed, as you trailed the fingertips of your un-occupied hand down his face, you dragged your thumb over his lower lip, your eyes following the movement as you pulled it down gently. 

You couldn't help but admire him, now that you had the opportunity. Peter was truly a blessed young man when it came to the looks department. The dark brown hair that was as silky soft as you had imagined; those big brown, puppy-dog eyes that had gotten him out of trouble with you on more than one occasion; that square jaw that was just a hint of how handsome he would be when he grew up; and you regretted that you were only now noticing what a vivid shade of pink his lips were.

As a professional teacher, you had never in your life taken a physical interest in any of your students. Not due entirely to some holier-than-thou internal moral code (as evidenced by your night time career, you didn't have much of one to speak of), but more so due to the fact that teenagers tended to be all knees, elbows, and acne, not to mention mouthy little shits besides. But studying Peter...perhaps it was the sense of immense respect you felt for all he had gone through in his life and still managed to become the hero that he had needed as a child. It may have also helped that his mutation gave the boy a considerable physique. His body looked like he had trained his entire life to achieve peak physical fitness. He was at the age where growth spurts were common, and you could tell he had grown several inches since he had first entered your classroom because now he no longer needed to actually tilt his head back slightly to stare at your cleavage when you were handing back papers. After a moment you snapped out of the trance his lanky teenage features had ensnared you in, and continued just as quietly as before, "I'm going to cover your eyes again, no one will recognize you. Just stay still." With that, you stood. 

Your eyes roaming over his ridiculous costume, you scoffed, before turning again to your workspace. This time you retrieved a scalpel, as well as the red bandanna you had packed for this specific reason. You strolled casually back toward your captive, making sure to hide the scalpel behind your wrist as you came closer. There was no need for him to panic about physical pain. At least not at this point, but the moment wasn't far off either. 

You knelt down so your knees were on either side of his head and quickly flicked your wrist so that the scalpel's edge cut through the seams at both shoulders of his red vest, then tucked the tool under your wrist gauntlet as you used both hands to unzip the front, before tugging the fabric out from underneath him and tossing it over into a pile with his mask. The bandanna you had folded into a strip wide enough to cover his eyes, and with a trailing corner that would cover his hair as well. Your fingers threaded through his hair briefly before you lifted his head to slip the folded fabric beneath it, knotting it carefully over the bridge of his nose. You couldn't resist smiling as Peter unintentionally crossed his eyes while trying to focus on what your hands were doing, and you lifted his head once more to spin the fabric so that the knot was at the back. You tucked the trailing corner underneath the knot made by the blindfold section, and tugged gently to make sure it would stay in place if Peter started tossing his head. You stood and stepped over and around his limbs so you were standing next to his torso before kneeling once more to cut through and remove the cheap, blue, sweatshirt. You moved down his body, removing his bright red socks and shoes, and tossing them over where they tumbled to a stop next to the pile of his other clothing; his mask still sitting on top, the goggles staring lifelessly ahead at their owner like one more witness to his humiliation.

Peter made a noise halfway between a grunt and a sob as you removed both of your work gloves and splayed the fingers of your exposed right hand, gently laying your palm over his naked stomach. You could feel his muscles, like corded steel beneath your hand, jump and twitch as they tried in vain to tense up, and you gently pushed down where he was trying to arch off the mattress. You twisted your wrist slightly, indulgently tracing over the naked skin that had been finally been bared to you. You dug in your fingertips as you stroked lower, just barely brushing the elastic of his sweatpants, and the drugged young man gave a shuddering sigh. You were suddenly gripped with the urge to press further, but ultimately decided that such an act would best be preserved for the up coming video. You made a soft noise of happiness at what you knew was coming, and the bound young man seemed to relax a bit more at the sound, as if hearing your pleasure pleased him just as deeply. But whatever sentiment had gripped you in that moment faded suddenly, and you removed your hand, standing to move to the camera phone, finally setting it up to begin recording. 

"For those of you who may not know who this is..." you explained, still standing behind the camera, "this," you zoomed in on the young man in front of you, "This is your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man." Your mocking tone left no room for argument as to just how you felt about the Web Crawler. "Now, now. I know most of you out there are thinking: 'Impossible! Not Spider-Man! It just can't be!' ", you sighed, stepping a little closer so as to get a different angle of his deliciously lithe and half naked body, before taking a step back and swinging the camera around to settle on the pile of red and blue cloth you had cut off of him, his mask easily visible on top of the pile. "Well that's where you'd be wrong my friends. That. Is where you'd. Be wrong." You turned back to your captive, and settled the phone back on it's tripod, making sure to get an angle that would allow for the best view, without exposing your face and as little of your body as possible. You didn't want to have to keep stopping just to fiddle with your camera, it would ruin the moment for far a more important reason than dramatic tension. You finally settled on a high angle, slightly to the left and about two inches above his left ankle, the camera looking up the length of his body and looking down from about three feet. Once you got started you would have to keep Peter's mind busy with sensation and careful words, or he might not be able to relax enough for your plan to work. Peter's enjoyment of what was going to happen would need to be obvious on film, or it would just come off as an assault. Not to mention he would be humiliated ten fold, and as a male victim, he would never be treated seriously by any of the legal systems set in place to help people like himself.

You hummed softly to yourself in happiness as you finally settled between his legs, the tops of your thighs pressed tightly enough to the bottom of Peters that you could feel the heat of his skin seeping through both layers of your clothing. Only a fraction of the left side and back of your skin-tight suit was visible from your knees to just above your hips, just as you'd planned. This recording was meant to focus on Peter and his humiliation; you wanted to get as little of yourself on camera as possible, and when you went home later that evening you'd be able to edit out anything that could be used to identify you.

You gently placed your hands just above his knees, and ran them slowly up to his hips. Your smile appeared quickly as he unconsciously arched up into you with a soft gasp; his drugged mind doing all it could to chase the pleasant sensation of your strong hands caressing so close and yet so far from where his body was aching for your touch. Your next step was to pull the scalpel out of your gauntlet once more, and twist slightly at the waist as you reached out with your free hand to grab the elastic band at the left ankle of his sweats. You lifted and held it taut with two fingers while you slipped your blade under the fabric, and pressed sharply upward and forward, cutting cleanly up to his knee. Dropping the useless pieces, you re-adjusted your hand until you could repeat the process up to the waistband, and again on his right leg.

When you finally finished, you bent forward slightly using your free hand to slip under his lower back and lift him gently as you ripped the fabric out from beneath him, then lowered him back to the mattress with just as much care. You smiled, barely holding back a giggle when you realized that he had even color-coordinated his undies, and the tighty-whiteys he had on were bright red with a dark blue elastic.

You tucked away the scalpel, and repeated your actions from earlier; stroking your hands slowly over the newly exposed skin between his knees and thighs, stopping here and there to rub gentle circles with your thumbs. "Oh, Spider Man..." You sighed as your hands drifted further up over his abs to circle the tips of both your middle fingers to around his nipples, your feather light touches causing them to pebble into soft points that caused your self control to buckle. 

You couldn't help yourself as you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the center of his chest, causing Peter to gasp and shudder beneath you. His lithe young body shivered beneath you once more as you trailed your lips over his skin, kissing tenderly over his right pectoral. When you reached his nipple you suckled it into your mouth and nipped sharply at its peak, causing Peter to arch into your touch almost violently, his high pitched cry of pleasure quickly winding down into a quiet whimpering that suddenly increased in volume when you repeated the process on his left side. You pushed your hands to his shoulders to keep him from squirming too much -the love bites you pressed across his chest continuing to make him shudder and twitch beneath you- as you allowed your hands to drift downward to play with the hardened peaks. You began to move upwards, licking and sucking marks over his shoulders, up his neck, and over his jawline. You paused for a moment at the corner of his mouth, something inside saying that this kiss would be one you would treasure in the future, and thus you should take a moment to appreciate the gravity of its implications. You couldn't help yourself, the soft flesh seemed to be begging to be kissed, and you dipped your head. At first your lips touched his in the barest brush of skin against skin, and the feeling like an electrical current was zipping through you at the contact must have been mutual, because Peter inhaled sharply through his nose before moaning lewdly and kissing back without even a hint of hesitation. Upon leaning back once more, you caressed appreciatively across his upper body and rested your hands on his hips once more gave his slender form another once-over. You could see that a heavy blush had flushed his cheeks and neck almost the same beautiful shade of bubble-gum pink as his lips. Half a dozen little love bites covered his upper chest, and his nipples a vivid red-pink, unused to the rough treatment to which he was being subjected. You allowed your hands to follow the same path as your eyes as your gaze drifted further downward, and you smirked when you noted his now rather prominent arousal pressing against his briefs. The thick outline of his member had to measure at least seven inches, and looked like it was just thick enough that you could easily wrap your hand around the shaft.

You cupped your hand around the obvious outline of his cock, smirking to yourself when his soft moan changed to a high pitched whine and his soft gasp of, "Oh my God!Hnnng!" was music to your ears. Needy wimpers spilled from his mouth as you allowed him to instinctually push up into your hand, the drug coursing through his veins allowed him to snap and grind his hips forward without restraint or shame. "Please!" He sobbed with desperation, "Please. I-I-just...please!" though at this point it wasn't clear if he wanted you to stop or if he wanted more.

Regardless of what he was truly pleading for, you decided for him that it was a craving for your touch that had caused his outburst, and continued to fondle the young man through his only remaining article of clothing. Though, at this point the briefs were doing little to hide the rigid outline of his cock against the fabric; Peter had been gifted with both length and thickness that you knew would be feel wonderful once it was inside you. But now was not the time for your pleasure, Peter would have to come first, in both senses of the word. 

When you determined that he was finally at full hardness, you pulled your hand away from his cock to hook your finger under the elastic waistband and pull it away from Peter's skin so that you could safely use your scalpel to make the last few cuts necessary to expose him completely, not only to your eyes, but to the camera as well. It only took a few seconds to do, but Peter was so eager for release that the moment the warm friction of your palm left him, he gave a sharp whine, his fingers clawed at the soft surface beneath him, and he pressed his hips up as far as he could before you gently pushed him back to mattress and forced him to keep still while you worked. Two small cuts later, you finally had no more use for your cutting tool, and when you pulled what was left of Peter's briefs out from under him, you tossed both scalpel and fabric away and over to the pile of his now ruined costume, to be destroyed later.

'Finally' , was all you could think for several seconds as your eyes swept over the exquisite example of human perfection that was Peter Parker's nude form. The lithe young teenager wasn't at his full height yet, but in the next few years you knew he would shoot up like a weed, he would probably gain at least a foot before he was finished growing. And he seemed to be keeping a healthy muscle mass, bulking up at a fairly even pace so that his body never hit that awkward teenager phase of being all knees-and-elbows. Already so strong and mature inside, it was just a matter of time before the baby-fat melted away from his rounded cheeks, and he would look just as mature on the outside. And more than just being arousing, it would work to your advantage as far as your recording was concerned. Yes his face looked young, but that was also the only part of him that was covered. Judging solely by the proportions of his body, he looked like a grown -if not relatively short- man.

He hissed as the cool night air finally washed over his throbbing cock in a cruel imitation of your own warm caress. "O-oooh." He huffed, "Please. Please. I need...I need, please!" He stopped suddenly and pressed his lips together as tightly as he could, like it was the only thing keeping him from full-on begging for his release.

All you had to do was align your fingers with his jaw line, press the pad of your thumb to his chin and pull down gently, and Parker obediently relaxed under your careful ministrations. His cotton candy colored lips were exposed to you once more and you couldn't help yourself; you dove in for another kiss, this one longer and much more intense than the first. Not wasting a moment, you immediately drove your tongue into his mouth, your grip on his jaw allowed you to easily hold him in place and move him exactly as you pleased. As you completely dominated his mouth with your tongue, Parker couldn't help but moan into the kiss, your own confidence just as soothing a balm to his nerves as the soft caresses of your hands were to his shaking body. You could feel the heat of his bare chest beginning to sink through your jumpsuit, your own nipples peaking in arousal, and had to break the kiss abruptly before you could get too carried away with your own pleasure. The virginal young man beneath you panted when your lips left his, letting out soft whimpers with each exhale, his face and neck flushed rose petal pink with a combination of fear and arousal that would have a lasting effect on his mind well into adulthood. 

"Good boy." You cooed at him as you panted slightly, sat back up again, and waited a moment for your breathing to return to normal before speaking in your best bedroom voice, "Such a good, good, boy for me. And good boys get rewards...Do you want your reward, Spider-Man?", you asked, tracing invisible patterns on his quivering thighs once more. 

You thought your only response would be the soft sob of frustration that came just after your question, but then you heard it again; barely whispered, but he had said it, "Please." Far too quiet for the camera to pick up, you teased him by slowly inching your hands up his thighs as you asked him to repeat himself, and he all but screamed, "Please! Please, touch me! For the love of God! _Please!_ I need it! I need it. I..." He his begging began to lose momentum as he realized he had not just confessed but had outright begged, out loud, his desperation for his rapist to continue violating him.

Though there was a part of you that desperately wanted to laugh at the conflict obviously happening in the boys head, you took advantage of the fact that he had squeezed his eyes shut in his distraction, and instead reached for the pile of toys you had brought over from your workbench and dropped next to the mattress. You had to shuffle back a bit, and shift your weight a few times to get the leather harness secured tightly around your waist over your jumpsuit, but with a few sharp tugs just to be certain, it was set perfectly with no wiggle room for once you really got things started. The six inch black silicone cock that now distended your crotch was average in girth, and gracefully arched gently upwards , in a wonderful imitation of the real thing. It certainly wasn't the largest strap-on you could find, but you wanted to humiliate and pleasure the boy, not split him in half. You knee walked forward until your thighs were pressed against his once more, making sure that your fake cock was easily visible to the camera as you reached for the small tube of lube you would need next. It only took a few seconds to remove the cap, squeeze out the appropriate amount, and liberally coat your new appendage from base to tip. In order to keep things from getting too messy, you reached for your pile of toys, pulled out an old oil rag to wipe the remaining gel off your hand, before you snapped open the cap on the lube again. You squeezed one more dime sized drop on to the tips of the middle and pointer fingers on your right hand, and tossed it back a second time. 

Peter jumped slightly as the fingers of your free hand danced a teasing caress of sensation across the back of his knee and downwards until the flat of your palm was caressing his perfectly rounded ass. You stretched your thumb out to pull his ass cheeks apart from one side, to expose and appreciate the clenched pucker of his virgin asshole. "Just try to relax, sweetie. It'll make things easier on both of us." The humor in your tone went unappreciated by the desperate young man, who squirmed as you applied the warmed lube to the entrance of his twitching hole. 

The drug you had dosed him with had done its work in relaxing him, and there was almost no resistance as your middle finger thrust slowly past the outer ring of muscle. Peter began to moan as you sunk in to your first knuckle, and withdrew just as slowly. The sounds were ambiguous as to whether they were pleasured or pained, but you could could tell from his flagging erection and measured breathing, he was at least uncomfortable with the alien sensation of being penetrated. Easily remedied by wrapping your left hand around his cock, and pumping in time with the finger still violating his asshole. You repeated the process again and again, curling your finger slightly as you pushed deeper each time. Youth and mutation on his side, he was rock hard and whining to be allowed to come just as enthusiastically as before. His entire body seemed spasm at once when you finally located his prostate. At first, the tip of your finger had brushed gently past it, and he had gasped quietly at the sensation, but you had known exactly what you'd found. The next thrust you had added your pointer finger, teasing him again by only thrusting forward one finger joint at a time. You curled your fingers gently as you pulled them back, and searched again for his prostate as you tightened your grip around his cock. 

It took you both by surprise when he came.

Thick ropes of semen exploded from his cock so suddenly, you didn't have the time to 'aim' it, and with the end result, you decided that you honestly couldn't have done better if you'd tried. His cum shot out in an upward arch, thick ropes and small droplets alike painting his body from navel to hairline. His hips pushed forward as he came, his entire body spasming as his mouth gaped wide open in a silent scream. His hips snapped forward repeatedly out of pure instinct, mindlessly trying to rut his still hard cock against something that was never there. The young man exhaled in one long sigh as he thought he would finally, finally, able to relax. Not knowing that things were only just getting started, or all that he would have to endure before he could rest.

The final product of his orgasm was so utterly pornigraphic, and undeniably erotic that you had to preserve it, for posterity's sake, of course. Peter Parker, tied up tight, covered in his own cum, flushed and whimpering from oversensitivity? Yes, please. You tapped the little camera icon in the corner of the phone screen to make sure you had at least one separate picture for yourself before you returned to the video screen, and shifted to lean back into Peter once more.

You continued to pump him through his orgasm, never once letting up, even when he was thrashing his hips around. You had pulled your fingers out of his ass as he came, but now you were once more circling his rapidly fluttering asshole, applying gentle pressure with two fingers until you could ease back in.

"Ah! _Oooh~_!" The boy whined as you deliberately overstimulated him, "No more." He begged, panting for breath between words. "Please. I just-I mean I-" He cut himself off with a silent scream as you began scissoring the two fingers you had been gently rocking back and forth inside him.

"Spider-man, that was beautiful. And we still have a looong way to go, believe it or not." you said as you gently began to press your ring finger in beside the other two, the quivering ring of his asshole giving way to your lubed up fingertips a little more with each thrust.

"N-no." He stuttered for a moment, "I can't. I _can't_ -I just-"

"I know you did, my Little Spider-Sweetheart." A deaf man could have heard the mocking tone of voice you used as you cut him off. "I know. And, trust me on this, you can. You can, and by the time I'm done with you, you will."

A ragged sounding moan was the only answer you recieved, but contrary to what he enunciated, Peter was alternating between thrusting up into the fist wrapped around his cock, and grinding back down into the fingers violating his asshole. He gave a soft sob of breath when you finally bottomed out with all three fingers for the first time, and a moaning whimper as you stimulated his prostate while slowly pulling back, only to let out a gasp when you immediately slammed your fingers back into him; repeating the process again and again, demonstrating exponentially less care and more speed each time.

His hands clenched open and shut, pulling as hard as he could against his restraints, as he measured his breathing in time with the quick push and drag of your fingers inside him. All he could manage was a slight rattle of the chain links before his weakened extremities simply gave out again. So instead he twisted his wrists until he could wrap his fingers around his metal bonds, the muscles of his forearms tensing and flexing each time your fingers bottomed out inside him. 

The next time you heard him moan in response to your ministrations, you knew it was finally time to test the boy; see if Peter was ready to hand himself over to you fully. There were more than a few ways to manipulate someone, but having Parker _ask_ you to take control was the best way to make sure it was both strong and long-lasting.

As you twisted your wrist, you slowed on the upstroke of Peters cock, easing off on pressure as you went, until your fingers just barely grazed over the head as you pulled away entirely. The response you were looking for was instantaneous, and you thought you'd have to work harder for it. The young man sucked in a sharp hiss of air, his stomach muscles tensed like he'd been mule kicked in the gut as he spoke up exactly how you hoped he would. "Wha-what are you doing? N-no, don't..." his breath stuttered slightly as he clamped his mouth shut so forcefully that his lips turned white for a moment. Despite his attempt to silence himself, there was a soft, short, tell-tale whimper that he couldn't stop. 

"Don't what, Spider-man?" You taunted, trying to drag out the rest of his confession, and while he didn't trust himself to respond verbally, he did vigorously shake his head 'No' at you. You continued to pump your fingers inside his asshole, making sure to drag viciously against the sensitive bundle of nerves inside him with every stroke as you spoke to the young man, "Don't what, Spider-man?" You cooed sweetly as he gasped from the sudden overstimulation.

"Oh, God! Don't stop! Please- _ah_ -, please, please, don't stop! I can't-", he gasped, "I can't cum without being touched. Please don't stop." He outright sobbed, "I n-need it. Please. Oh, God, please." Truthfully that had been all you needed to hear, but Peter didn't know that, and the poor boy continued to babel as you finger fucked him senseless, "Need you to - _ah, hah, nnngh_ \- to touch me. I need it. Your hands, oh God, your hands-! _Nnngh-ah_! Please, I'll do anything, j-just touch me _-ah_ -!"

"I might be able to help you with that." You said as he turned his head to the side, and pressed his face against his bicep in an attempt to focus and keep from being overwhelmed. "Might." You stressed the word, "If you can promise me something, Spider-man." You didn't wait for the question you knew was coming before you explained, "I want you to promise me that you're going to be a good boy for me. That means from now on, you do exactly as I tell you, when I tell you, without question.Think you can do that?"

Peter nodded vigorously, "Yes! Yes, anything, just touch m-m-my...please. Y-you can't just tease me -ah- ...like this and then not... let..."

Something seemed to dawn on him suddenly, but you cut him off before he could spiral himself into a panic about it, "Oh, Goodness no, Spider-Sweetie. Goodness, no." Your tone was somehow comforting and condescending all at once, "I promise I don't intend to get you all riled up and then just leave you like this: bound, naked and alone, helpless against the whims of any dirty little perverts who just happen to know where you are..."

Peter pressed his lips together tightly and produced a shaking inhale at the scenario that had never crossed his mind. He had no idea how long Shadows drugs were going to last, and if she broke her promise and left him here... She could tell anyone where he was, or even worse... she could tell everyone where he was. And Oh.My.God, she could even tell everyone who he was! Suddenly his situation had gone from Waking Nightmare to Living Hellscape...and yet, he was still floating on that drug induced high that was giving him a wonderful buffer against what should have been a rising panic attack. Instead it allowed him to focus on the fact that he had no idea that one of his kinks was apparently being violated by anonymous strangers, his current situation apparently included, as he continued to rhythmically try to rock down into the fingers caressing his asshole while imagining a small crowd of shadow-faced strangers was watching and waiting for their own turns with his body. Anyone. _Anyone_ in New York could just... do whatever they wanted to him, to his body... and... He could almost feel it. Dozens of phantom hands caressing over every inch of his body, pinching and teasing in all his most sensitive places.

"No my darling Spider, my little mixture was designed to hit hard and fast, but it doesn't last long -by comparison- to the original formula, so I'm going to be making the most of the relatively short time we're going to have together. And don't you worry, you're going to love every second of it, I'll make sure of that." To anyone who didn't know you, they'd think your smile was genuine amusement; anyone who did know you would see it for the mocking gesture that it really was.

But all Peter could see was an chilling omen of his future.


End file.
